


disintegrating

by cre8iveovadose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Compound, Blood and Injury, Cutting, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Self-Harm, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21659512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cre8iveovadose/pseuds/cre8iveovadose
Summary: The Blip wasn’t the first time Peter Parker didn’t feel so good.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 266





	disintegrating

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Tony Stark into my other Spidey-fic, “you can’t go home again”, but couldn’t work it with the other things I wanted to include so here we go again. I forgot about Peter’s healing factor in my first fic so I’ve decided to ignore it here too lol. Enjoy!

_“You’ve got a warm heart,  
You’ve got a beautiful brain  
But it’s disintegrating…”_

— “Medicine”, Daughter

* * *

Peter Parker didn’t want to fall down into the dark again. He’d been doing so well since Mr Stark had recruited him. He’d handled it when he got his powers. He’d held on through the fight at the airport in Germany. But something had switched in his brain. Something was eating him up inside and he couldn’t run away from it like the bullies at school or the bad guys in the streets.

Peter had felt like this before but now, staying in the Avengers compound for a week so Mr Stark could make adjustments to his suit, he wasn’t so sure he could hide it. He knew how to hide things from Aunt May, from Ned, from his teachers. But none of them had an artificial intelligence system controlling their entire house, watching every move he made.

The first couple of days had been fine as he roamed the compound, exploring all the facilities and accommodations for the world’s finest heroes. But now that he’d seen all there was to see and Mr Stark was installed in his engineering lab, Peter was alone with his thoughts.

That was never a good place for Peter to be.

He’d walked three laps around the grounds. He’d scaled the tallest building and watched the world go by. He’d even tried going back to his room and doing his homework but he couldn’t focus. There was a throbbing ache in his wrists that he just couldn’t ignore.

Slamming his chemistry book closed, Peter got to his feet and stormed down the hallway towards the science labs. He flashed his security pass to the panel on the wall, F.R.I.D.A.Y. welcoming him inside.

Mr Stark was sitting at a desk fusing something onto one of the web-shooters. Peter kept his distance as sparks flew from the equipment but when they stopped, he leaned his forearms on the table and watched as Mr Stark took off his gloves and removed his safety goggles.

“Whatcha doing?” Peter asked.

“Fixing your suit,” Mr Stark replied, not meeting his gaze. “I thought I told you not to interrupt me.”

“You didn’t.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Mr Stark swung around to the mannequin where Peter’s suit was set out. His nimble fingers reattached the web-shooter before disconnecting the other one and turning back to the table.

“I’m bored,” Peter said. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Okay,” Mr Stark said slowly as he pulled his gloves on again. “Go find me a … mystic hammer.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Like Thor’s?”

“What? No, not like - kid, mystic hammers aren’t a thing.”

“I’m pretty sure Thor’s is.”

“No, they’re a trick to stop kids being - look, just let me work, alright? We can play tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Tomorrow. Or at dinner or something.” Mr Stark put his goggles back on and Peter stepped back as he got back to work, sparks flashing through the air again.

Peter buried his hands in his pockets and left the lab. He skulked down the corridors back to his room where he collapsed on the unfamiliar bed and stared at the ceiling.

The throb was back in his arms and if he didn’t find something to do soon, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer.

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, kicking them aimlessly as he tried to think of something, anything, to distract him, to stop his brain disintegrating around him.

There was nothing. It matched the growing nothing sitting in his chest.

Peter got up and paced back and forth. He could count his steps, his breaths, the beats of his heart. The threads in the sheets or the specks on the floor or the dust motes in the air. Anything to stop him.

He paused and looked at his backpack where it lay at the foot of his bed. He could just push these thoughts from his head with a few quick swipes of steel on skin. That would solve the problem.

Tangling his fingers together and biting his lip, Peter crouched down beside his backpack. He unzipped the front pocket and dug around for the carefully folded tissue he’d wrapped a razor blade in. Pulling it out, he unfolded the tissue and watched how the light played off the blade.

If he was quick and careful, he wouldn’t even remember doing this tomorrow. He’d be back to his normal self and he wouldn’t have to worry about Mr Stark seeing through him. The darkness would fade away again, a problem for another day.

Peter sat with his back against the bed and crossed his legs. He laid the blade on his knee while he pulled back his sleeve. The skin of his wrist and forearm was divvied up by lines of scars. Most were white, barely visible, but the more recent marks were a shadowed pink, almost a window into the blood vessels that lay beneath.

Swallowing his fear, Peter picked up the blade and pressed it over his wrist. He drew a slow, straight line and watched the blood bubble up in his wake. Pain wandered along his nerves and he felt the weight in his chest start to lift as his body tried to make sense of what he was doing to himself.

Peter’s breath hitched as he cut again. His fingers slipped a little and he dug deeper than he’d meant to but the rush of blood made him giddy with relief. He tried again. And again. It felt better each time.

Blood was pooling on his skin and slipping down to stain his jeans. His thoughts were fluttering through his head, too ephemeral to keep hold of. His fingers didn’t feel like fingers and he felt the blade fall between them and clatter to the floor.

A voice, somewhere between computerised and Irish, filled the room.

“Mr Stark calling,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced before she connected them.

“Hey, kid, you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s saying your heart rate’s sped up but you’re not moving.”

Peter blinked before he looked down at himself. He was bleeding, there was red everywhere, and his arm was littered with gaping wounds. Bile rose in his throat and he blinked back tears.

“Mr Stark - I don’t feel so good.”

* * *

Tony Stark had been too hard on the kid, he knew that, but he had to get these adjustments done. If Parker was insistent on being a friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man, he needed a suit that was reliable and safe. Tony wasn’t going to be held responsible for the deaths of any more kids.

He fitted the second web-shooter and replaced the lenses in the mask before he stumbled to his feet and staggered across the room for a fresh cup of coffee. He didn’t understand how his body could tolerate an ass-kicking from a 100-year-old man but not an afternoon sat at his worktable.

Tony stood back and surveyed the suit, searching for any other improvements that could be made while he kept working on the Iron Spider Armour he had in development.

“Mr Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, “Mr Parker’s vital signs are showing some strange data.”

Tony turned towards his computer, sipping his coffee. “How strange?”

“He hasn’t moved in almost fifteen minutes but his heart rate is elevated.”

“He’s a teenage boy, F.R.I.D.A.Y. - he’s gross but he’s fine.”

“I considered that possibility, Mr Stark, but I measured his temperature as well and it’s falling, not rising.”

Tony ran a hand over his face before waving it dismissively. “Call him.”

He listened as F.R.I.D.A.Y. connected them, announcing the call to Peter before Tony spoke. “Hey, kid, you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s saying your heart rate’s sped up but you’re not moving.”

The other end of the line was quiet, barely even a whisper of Peter’s breathing. Tony adjusted the volume but it didn’t improve things. He opened his mouth to speak again when Peter finally responded.

“Mr Stark - I don’t feel so good.”

Tony traded his coffee for his phone, transferring the call from his computer as he left the lab and headed for the residential wing.

“Talk to me, kid, what’s going on?”

“I-I’m not sure. I thought I was just gonna - I went too far.”

“Went too far where? Aren’t you in your room?”

“I am but - Mr Stark, there’s a lotta blood.”

Tony swore as he broke into a run, skidding around the last corner before he burst into Peter’s room. The kid was on the floor, covered in blood, and looking up at him with red-ringed eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” Peter croaked. “I just wanted to feel better.”

Tony gulped before he addressed F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Call for emergency medical assistance. Tell them what’s happened.” He dropped his phone on the bed before he knelt down beside Peter, catching the kid as he pitched over. Sitting on the floor, Tony cradled him and tried to think of where to start to stem the flow of blood.

“I’m sorry,” Peter cried. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, kid, it’s okay. You’re all right.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

Tony finally clamped his hand over the worst of the cuts, flinching when Peter cried out in pain. “You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

He wasn’t sure how long it took for help to arrive but suddenly he was watching a paramedic and a doctor drag Peter over the floor. They laid him flat and shot him up with a sedative before they started addressing the wounds.

“Tony?”

He looked up to see Happy filling the doorway. His friend pulled him to his feet and led him out into the hallway.

“What happened, boss?”

“I don’t know - F.R.I.D.A.Y. noticed his vital signs changing so I came to check and …” Tony looked down at his hands, covered in Peter’s blood. “Oh god.”

He fell back to his knees, Happy trying to catch him but only managing to grab his shoulder. Tony looked back through the door to where Peter lay, unconscious, while the doctors worked on him.

“I didn’t know he was sick,” Tony whispered. “I didn’t know he did that.”

“Wait, you mean he-” Happy followed his gaze. “Oh, man.”

Tony stayed sitting on the floor of the hallway as the doctors worked. They couldn’t take Peter to a hospital, not with his biological anomalies. He hoped there were enough supplies here to treat him. He wasn’t sure what they’d do if there wasn’t.

Time ticked on as he waited. When the doctor finally pulled back, Peter looked pale as a ghost and the swathes of bandage around his arm made him look so small.

The doctor came out to the hallway and crouched down beside Tony. “He’s gonna be okay,” she said. “It looked worse than it was.”

“Not comforting,” Tony whispered, unable to look away from Peter’s face.

“Is there somewhere we can move him so he can rest?”

Happy got to his feet. “I can show you.”

Tony listened as they walked down the hall before he slowly crawled back into the room. The blood had been mopped up but the floor was littered with wrappings from dressings and gauze and a small dish held two syringes and a suture kit.

Tony stroked Peter’s curls. “Oh, kid. What did you do this for?”

He barely noticed Peter’s eyes flicker open. “Just wanted … to feel better.”

Tony coughed up a sob and shook his head. “Next time? Just come talk to me, yeah?”

Peter managed a shallow nod. “Okay, Mr Stark.”

Tony ran his hand over the kid’s curls again as he went back to sleep. No matter what it took, he would never let this happen again. Peter Parker would never disintegrate. Not if Tony Stark could help it.

**Author's Note:**

> That felt deliciously evil somehow lol. I hope you liked it. Thank you for reading, lovelies <3000


End file.
